Red
by whirlwinds of watercolours
Summary: Red used to be Hermione Granger's favourite colour. Until she committed the most grievous sin - murder.


**Title: Red**

**Summary: Red used to be Hermione Granger's favourite colour. Until she committed the most grievous sin - murder.**

**Author: Memento Vivere**

**Rating: T for character death.**

**Word Count: 5,421**

******Written for: The 15/16 Colours Competition; Pairing Love Competition; OTP Boot Camp; TimeTravel Boot Camp; School Subjects Competition: Potions; Honeydukes Competition: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum; Magic Competition: Avada Kedavra; The Colours of the Rainbow Challenge: Red; Personal Restrictions Competition; Creatures of Hogwarts Challenge: Sphinx; Failed Relationships Competition.**

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**A/N: This is an absurdly long one-shot my twisted mind came up with, so it probably doesn't make any sense. Canon-compliant until the end of HBP, Dumbledore's death never happened. Remember, ****I'm not responsible for any nightmares or trauma caused. AU, so characters may be a little OoC. Please tell me if they are. :)**

**I would like to take this time to thank _Emma Quinn_, for being such a dear and typing a horrendously long review via Mobile on Facebook Chat ;), _SpookiPooki_, for supplying some plot bunnies, and last but not least, my wonderful beta _VenusInHerHair_, for being awesome and going through 15 pages of worth of weirdness and yet managing to correct all the little errors within one day. All of you are really great people.**

**You'll probably make my year if you leave a little review, but no one's holding you at wandpoint. ;)**

**And on that note, I'm ending this rather long Author's Note and letting you read in peace. Enjoy!**

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Red.

Red was one of Hermione Granger's favourite colours. There was a mysterious quality to the elegant shade, an appealing factor about that dark hue. Red also stood for Gryffindor; the House of bravery and courage – her House.

But now, that colour only reminded her of blood.

* * *

Tonight was the night.

She had been putting off her task for a while now, but it had to be done soon. Time was running out, ticking away... it was now or never.

_Better sooner than later_, she reasoned to herself.

Around her, the graduation party was going on in full swing. Girls donned in flamboyant dresses pranced around the dance floor in tune with the music playing from an unknown source with their respective partners; other boys loitered around the drinks table, occasionally taking sips of firewhiskey while making idle chatter with their friends. A mood of festivity hung in the air, affecting everyone in the radius.

All but one person.

Hermione Granger leaned against the wall, her red dress robes blending in innocuously with the grand ballroom of Hogwarts wallpapered in all the colours of the four houses. Her eyes were closed; her body slumped in fatigue as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

_"I am asking too much of you, Miss Granger. Are you sure-?"_

_"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I'm very sure I want to do this."_

Sighing to herself, she got up from her slouched position against the wall and made her way to the entrance of the ballroom. No one noticed a certain bushy-haired girl silently slipping past the grand carved doors into the adjoining Great Hall and beyond.

The hallways of Hogwarts were silent, save for a few hissing sounds made by the spitting fire of the torches that hung on the wall and her own footfalls. Everyone except the seventh years was supposed to be in bed, rising early to leave Hogwarts tomorrow for their summer holidays. Her legs felt as heavy as lead as she took each step, getting closer to her destination while the object in her pocket weighed like a bag of stones. Compared to what was to come, her walk to the Astronomy Tower was relatively peaceful and far more pleasant.

Stopping outside the old wooden door of the Tower, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. Her fist came into contact with the wood three times, and without waiting for an answer, she gripped the cold brass knob and twisted it, stepping in.

The creak of unoiled hinges greeted her, echoing through the vast and airy room, duly followed by the sound of the door shutting itself. A familiar figure stood by the open window, his back to her as he faced the landscape below lit by the pale moonlight. From his tensed posture, she knew that he was aware of her presence, although he did not make any move to acknowledge it.

She approached him cautiously, as one would with a snake ready to strike, knowing that he did not liked to be disturbed while deep in his thoughts. However, he still made no indication that he sensed her, choosing instead to stare straight ahead. Only once when she was directly behind him and he could no longer ignore her did he finally speak.

"You came."

His tone seemed impassive, yet she could hear a tiny hint of surprise underneath those emotionless words. Evidently, he had expected her to ignore his owl which came early that morning, seeing as she never listened to him most of the time due to her stubbornness. She shifted slightly now that the danger had passed, so that she was now standing next to him on the balcony, staring out at the night scenery before them.

"I did," she answered after a long pause, tearing her gaze away from the picturesque view of the stars and turning to stare at him.

"Why?" he asked quietly, so softly that she thought she imagined it if not for the small movement of his lips.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked back, puzzled at his strange question. After all, he wanted to meet her in the Astronomy Tower, and for a reason, too – Lord Voldemort never did things without a purpose. Plus, he usually had something to gain from that purpose – and she wanted to find out what that odd mind of his was planning.

Besides, this was also the perfect setting to carry out her task.

For the first time that night, Tom Riddle turned to face her. As his face was thrown into relief, she involuntarily drew in a breath.

Clad in his impeccable dress robes from graduation, not a single hair was out of place. His pale skin was a sharp contrast to his dark hair and eyes, and in the moonlight his symmetrical features seemed enhanced, giving them an ethereal look. His piercing eyes, full of mystery and gleaming sinisterly in the light, bore into hers, making her feel like all her secrets were exposed to him.

He was an angel of darkness, sent straight from the depths of hell.

"_You are aware of the dangers of this task, Miss Granger?"_

"_Yes, Professor Dumbledore. But I'm ready."_

"I thought you would have wanted to enjoy your graduation night without any interruptions, Granger," his soft yet clear voice rang through the room. "Since it happens to be your… _only _one."

His heavy emphasis on the word 'only' implied that he knew this was not going to be the only graduation ceremony she would be attending. Her heart stopped momentarily and surprise flashed across her features, causing him to raise a curious eyebrow, but she quickly composed her face back into a blank expression before he could ask. Perhaps she could pass that off as a trick of light – although she highly doubted she could.

_He doesn't know_, she thought to herself, trying to force back the bubble of fear that welled up in her throat. _He couldn't have known._

"It's quite boring, actually," she said loudly, hoping he would not notice how nervous she was getting under his careful scrutiny. "And it's not a big deal, seeing as _you_ missed it too."

A smirk curved his lips upwards. "You're right," he agreed. "The party's a complete waste of time." His answer was completely unexpected, since she thought that he would want to keep up his appearance as the perfect, innocent Head Boy.

Apparently not anymore. According to Harry, Lord Voldemort had begun working at Borgin and Burke's almost immediately after graduation, so she supposed it would not have really mattered if he turned up at the party or not.

A moment of tensed silence passed as they assessed each other, wondering what the other's motive was. Hermione turned back to the view, keeping her eyes on a small point in the far distance although she could feel Riddle staring fixedly at her. Finally, after a few minutes of quietness, she broke the silence, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

"Why did you ask me to come up here?" she questioned, not looking at him directly for fear of him attempting Legilimency on her. She had already felt a force pushing at the edges of her mind, ready to strike at an unsuspecting moment. His Legilimency was not in such a tip-top condition that he could use it without direct eye contact – judging from the amount of books on mind-reading she had seen him reading in the library and the Slytherin Common Room, she had no doubt that he had just began learning.

His answer was brisk and to the point. "I want you to marry me after we leave Hogwarts."

This night was full of unexpected surprises for Hermione Granger. Shell-shocked, she froze, akin to a deer caught in headlights. The words replayed themselves over and over again in her mind, and it took a while for her to process it and let them sink in.

What – _what_? That was not part of the plan! The mere idea of receiving a marriage proposal from the future Dark Lord was hilarious – yet utterly plausible, given the tactic she chose to employ and the promising results. Who knew what drastic changes this was going to cause the timeline if she accepted the offer – if she did not carry out her task?

_But you're not going to accept his twisted proposal, _a little voice sounding suspiciously like Albus Dumbledore's reminded her. _You're going to fulfil what you went to the past for._

As much as she hated to admit, it – he? – was right, of course.

"No," she blurted out. Ignoring the fact that she was not an Occlumens, she turned and stared straight into those mysterious dark eyes of him. "_No. _I am not going to marry you."

She could have sworn that she saw his eyes flash a threatening red in the moonlight, but when she blinked again, they were back to their normal dark colour. Still, the displeasure at her rejection was obvious even to her. His lips were curled into a sneer, and his eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

"You should know by now that I don't take 'no' for an answer, Granger," he snarled. "You are marrying me after we leave Hogwarts, and that's settled."

No, no, no. Everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen! None of this was supposed to happen! She was sent back in time with a task, and she was supposed to have completed that task long ago. Why, oh why, had she delayed?

She should have just bitten the bullet and gotten it over and done with the first time she laid eyes on him.

"_Miss Granger, you are telling me you're from the future?" A much younger Dumbledore than the one from her time peered at her through those half-moon spectacles of his._

"_Yes," she took a deep breath. "Yes, I am. I was sent back in time by you – as in, the future one – with an important task, but I'm afraid I can't tell you what I'm supposed to do, Professor. It might damage the timeline." She crossed her fingers, hoping he would believe her. He was her only link to the present in this past, after all._

_The clear blue eyes gazed at her for a long time, before he gave a nod. "Very well, then, Miss Granger. I will take you to Headmaster Armando Dippet for your Sorting. We can come up with a cover story in order for you to successfully complete this task of yours and to protect the timeline – shall we say you are a transfer student from Beauxbatons?"_

"_Of course, Professor," Hermione agreed. She had read _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe _cover to cover dozens of times, and she had seen the pictures Bill's fiancée Fleur had shown them of the French school. She was fairly certain she was able to answer any questions asked._

"_Excellent," Dumbledore replied as they entered the office of the current Headmaster of the 1940s, Armando Dippet._

_It was extraordinarily different from the office she remembered in her time. While Albus Dumbledore's office had been filled with all kinds of fascinating magical instruments and an incredible collection of rare books with Fawkes the phoenix at his usual corner of the room, it was now bare and devoid of any decoration. Armando Dippet seemed to take pride in tucking every spare bit of parchment out of sight, and with only a desk and the stool the old Sorting Hat was sitting on, the room did not provide that sense of security she had felt in Albus Dumbledore's office. _

"_So this was the girl who took the portkey and landed in the grounds?" Armando Dippet asked as he looked up from his paperwork. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?"_

"_Granger, Hermione Granger, sir."_

"_Miss Granger. I hope that you will find Hogwarts a safe refuge from the war in France," the current Headmaster smiled kindly at her. "You don't have a French accent, though," he remarked._

"_I was raised in Britain, but my parents wanted me to attend Beauxbatons," she said, thinking up a lie quickly. "I hope so too, Headmaster," she forced a smile back, but Armando Dippet did not seem to notice the falseness._

"_But before you begin your seventh year education at Hogwarts, you must first be Sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Do you know anything about those Houses?"_

"_Yes, Gryffindor stands for the House of bravery, Ravenclaw the House of cleverness, Hufflepuff the House of loyalty, and Slytherin the House of ambition."_

"_Excellent," Armando Dippet beamed. "With that sharp mind of yours, you may be Sorted into Ravenclaw." _

_It would be a pity then, for she already knew the House she was going to be Sorted into: Slytherin._

_She sat down on the stool, feeling the Hat being slipped over her eyes. A few seconds later, the Hat spoke up._

"_Hmm… are you sure? You could do well in Gryffindor – you certainly have the courage, taking on a task like this." She did not question how the Hat knew about it – it probably knew everything about everyone._

_The Hat gave a soft laugh. "That is true, Miss Granger. You would do well in Ravenclaw – I see that you still have that desire for knowledge. Hufflepuff too – very loyal to your friends. But Slytherin? Are you sure?"_

_She was a hundred percent sure; how else would she get the task done?_

"_If you say so… Although if you ask me, your old House Gryffindor would have been the best choice… but nonetheless I respect your decision, hence… SLYTHERIN!"_

_The Hat shouted out the last word, and she stood up from the stool, putting the Hat back in its original position. Dumbledore and Armando Dippet were both clapping politely, but Armando Dippet seemed overly pleased._

"_Slytherin would be glad to welcome a new addition, Miss Granger. I'll send for our Head Boy, Tom Riddle, to show you around straight away!"_

_Her body tensed at the given name of the future Dark Lord spoken so casually. Dippet was exactly as Harry described – clueless about what their innocent Head Boy would become…_

_A polite knock sounded on the wooden door, before opening to reveal the devil reincarnate himself._

_She could not help but stare at him in astonishment. He looked so different from his future snakelike self; it was difficult to believe that the boy standing in front of her would soon have an appearance mutilated beyond recognition._

_Instead of the bald head she was used to seeing in the future, his jet black hair was neatly combed, standing out against his pale, but not yet sickly-white, skin. His sharp dark eyes, with not even a hint of redness in them, scanned the room, taking in every fine detail. Unlike his older self, as of now he still had a proper nose, which seemed to look down at everything in the room. But his appearance was not the only thing that surprised her._

_Even at seventeen, an aura of dark and powerful magic pulsed around him; proving that he was not just some naïve schoolboy who went astray._

_He was already set on becoming the Dark Lord._

_She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of Armando Dippet's clearing his throat. "Tom, you'll show our new student around, won't you?"_

_He was standing just a few feet away from her. She could have easily pulled out her wand right there and then and finish what she was supposed to do, Obliviate Armando Dippet and tell Dumbledore the truth, then find the rest of them and destroy them. Everything was simple._

_But she kept her wand in her pocket._

If she had not hesitated back then, she would not be in this situation right now.

"I am not," she hissed back, feeling a wave of anger wash over her at his manipulation. How dare he! "You don't control my life, Riddle."

In a swift motion, he was in front of her, and she found herself staring into those dark, dark eyes of his. Before she could comprehend what was happening, his taller frame bent down, and he captured her lips with his.

The next moment was absolute perfection.

All her worries and frustration disappeared, blown away by the gentle wind. The constricted feeling of panic she had been feeling all night in her chest melted away completely, to be replaced by one of pure bliss. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her brain seemed to stop functioning at that moment; the one thing in the world that mattered right now was him, and him_ only._

However, a mere few seconds later, he pulled away, leaving her feeling light-headed and lost without the strange and surprising sense of security he provided for her. Stumbling back, she glared at the satisfied and smirking face of Tom Riddle. _That bastard! _He tricked her!

"I don't 'control you', do I?" he mocked teasingly. A mortified blush rose in her cheeks and she turned her head away irritably to continue staring at a far-off point in the distance. At least _that _was a better sight than that pleased smirk plastered on his face.

"_But Professor, how do you propose that I get close enough to… to…"_

"_That is a tricky bit, Miss Granger, which is why I picked you to do this. Tom Riddle was a very charming young man; you must remember to keep your head clear at all times."_

"_I know, Professor. But what must I do?"_

"_He has to fall for you, Miss Granger. There is no other way."_

Just look at how well that idea turned out.

"Riddle," she sighed heavily, trying in vain to reason with him and knowing she would not succeed. "I _can't. _I'm only eighteen, for Merlin's sake! I'm too young!"

"But that didn't stop you from doing a spot of time-travelling, did it?"

His words caught her off guard, and she froze in shock as a wave of horror crashed over her. Panic raced through her veins as she struggled to form coherent thoughts. How – how did he know? Did he make an educated guess, or was he more proficient at Legilimency than she first thought? She clearly underestimated his observation skills and mastery of mind-reading.

But the important question was, _how much did he know about her past?_

Seeing that she had yet to respond, Riddle gave a chuckle of cold amusement. "Surprised, Granger? Thought I wouldn't figure out your little secret, did you?"

_Oh dear Merlin, he knows. He knows everything, doesn't he?_

"How… how did you know?" she finally managed to croak out, her throat dry. She kept her eyes fixed on some object in the distance, terrified to look at his gloating expression and the cruel gleam in his eyes as he raised that infamous yew wand, and –

"Anyone with half a brain cell would have guessed, Granger," he scoffed scathingly. "You're not from this era. Your clothes, your speech, and your way of thinking – it's too modern to belong here."

From his words and tone, he did not seem to know her true purpose, or else he would have confronted her about it immediately. Or killed her the moment she set foot in the Astronomy Tower.

But as soon as she breathed a small sigh of relief, another thought occurred to her, and she crossed her fingers, hoping without much hope that he would not ask that dreaded question.

_Oh no, please don't ask why, please don't – _

"But you came here with a purpose, didn't you?"

As Ron would say, _bloody hell._

"What makes you think that?" she asked casually, trying to stall her imminent death for a few more minutes. Once he knew about her true motive, she had no doubt that he would instantly blast her off the Astronomy Tower. If only she had an opening and a bit more time… perhaps this time _she _could be the one catching _him _off guard.

"People don't travel back in time for a holiday, Granger. Time-travelling is a highly dangerous and fickle business, and let's not forget you can only go _backwards_, not forwards. Since you happen to be from the twenty-first century or so, I doubt that you'll go back such a long way for a trivial matter."

His reasoning was flawless, she had to admit. Despite his warped beliefs and immoral values, she had to admit he had a brilliant mind.

"It was an accident," she lied. Remembering her visit to the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year, an idea came to her. "I was an Unspeakable specialising in time, and we were testing out a new invention in the Department of Mysteries, so –"

"Then would you care to explain why you landed in _Hogwarts_, of all places?" his smooth voice interrupted. "One of the laws of time-travelling states that the time-traveller will be taken to the location they were present at the time they had gone back to. If the time-traveller was not born yet, the person will be taken to the place they were when they turned back the time. Obviously you were not born yet, hence the latter law will apply in this case, which leaves us the mystery of why you appeared near the Black Lake when you used the time-turner in the Department of Mysteries."

"That law is a theory, not a fact," she pointed out, although she knew that it would be proven true by herself later.

"But that law makes a lot more sense than appearing in a random location, doesn't it?" he countered back.

It was moments like this that Hermione enjoyed being in the past. In all her years at Hogwarts, she had never met anyone who could challenge her intellectually like he could. Harry and Ron, like all the other Gryffindors, were not interested in these debates, and while she was friendly with most of the Ravenclaws, they could not keep up with her line of thinking sometimes.

Riddle, however, could counter her arguments with ease, albeit his points were twisted and distorted from the original to suit himself. However, that did not change the fact that those debates were challenging.

And Hermione Granger was always up for a challenge.

"That's beside the point," she snapped. "Just because something makes more sense than another doesn't mean that it's true," she continued hotly. "There's a possibility that it's ever-changing, just like Time itself."

"_But Professor, what about temporal paradoxes?"_

"_That is an excellent question, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid there's no answer to that."_

"_What do you mean, Professor? Is there no solution to temporal paradoxes?"_

"_There is, Miss Granger, but there is no definite solution. Time uses different methods to correct paradoxes. It may protect itself from damage, or it may allow you to change it completely."_

"_Which means I may not be able to…?"_

"_That is correct. Time is strange in its own way, which is what makes it dangerous."_

There was a long and uncomfortable silence after that, which Hermione took for him thinking over her words. She did not dare to turn around to check, however, for fear that he might take the chance to attack her using Legilimency.

Finally, after a pause, he spoke up. "You seem very eager to prove that you weren't at Hogwarts at the time you turned back, Granger. However," he added before she had a chance to defend herself, "now's not the time to discuss your time-travelling adventures. I'm still waiting for your acceptance to my… proposal."

Accept his sick and twisted offer to become the Dark Lady? No thank you.

"Riddle, do you know what's the meaning of 'no'? It is a negative response to –" she began in a tone of exasperation, but was cut off by him again.

"I don't need an English lesson, Granger," he interrupted icily. "I'm perfectly aware of the definition of the word 'no'. Besides, there's nothing else for you to do after you completed whatever you were sent back in time for, is there?"

"But the point is, I _haven't _completed what I was supposed to do." Irritation welled up in her, and she spun around, tired of watching the scenery and trying to emphasise her point.

He was hidden in the shadow of the Tower leaning against the wall, casually twirling the yew wand between his abnormally long fingers as he watched her with mild amusement.

"Even so," he drawled, watching her instead of the wand, "why let your life be controlled by others? It's your life, after all."

Those words brought questions she had never thought about before, and she frowned. She hated to admit it, but to a certain extent he was right. Why had Dumbledore, out of all the members of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix, chosen her?

"_Pardon me for asking, Professor, but why me?"_

"_Miss Granger, I have complete faith and trust that you will succeed. You are a strong and capable woman, I know you can fight against the charms and powers of Voldemort."_

Back then, she had accepted the task without any more questions, since the Light side was beginning to lose the upper hand. But now, she allowed doubt to creep in her mind. She knew it was entirely selfish of her, but why did Dumbledore not choose someone else? Was it because she was a mere Mudblood, someone replaceable?

_Don't be silly. Dumbledore fought for Muggle rights, and besides, he doesn't treat everyone like tools._

The sensible voice was comforting, but a much louder and nagging voice soon took over.

_Does he? You read about his heroic deeds in books only, you've never seen any real examples, have you? Besides, you don't know much about Dumbledore personally, do you? _

The questions swirled in her mind, overwhelming her. She snapped out of her thoughts to see Riddle strolling out of the darkness and tucking the wand back into his pocket, with that pleased smirk on his face once again.

"I'll _consider _your offer," she decided stiffly. "There's no guarantee that I'll accept it, though."

An accomplished smirk – 'Riddle' and 'smile' did not belong in the same sentence – twisted his features, and he laughed. "There's a good girl," he teased, before closing the distance between them in one long stride.

Their lips met, and once again she struggled not to lose herself in that all-consuming kiss. _This is the perfect chance! Do it now!_

But oh, it did feel good being with him. His presence made up for those miserable days spent in the past without the company of Harry and Ron. The days spent in the cosiness of the Slytherin Common Room – she had come to think of the place as home now – bantering; those forbidden kisses of pleasure in unused classrooms; even that annoying smirk he used to wear all the time… she was going to miss all of those.

His fingers were playing with a few strands of her now bushy and untamed hair, sending tingles of delight down her spine. His tongue flicked across her bottom lip gently, and she closed her eyes, relishing in the moment, wanting to savour it forever.

But what was to be done had to be done.

As inconspicuously as possible, her fingers closed around the handle of the knife in the pocket of her robes. As quick as she could while trying to avoid detection, she brought it almost level with his heart, and pushed the blade in as further as it could go.

A distinct _crack _sounded through the air as the knife dug in deeper. They stumbled apart; Hermione out of fear that it had not worked; Riddle clutching his chest, his face grimaced in pain.

"This is your purpose, isn't it?" he gasped as the realisation dawned on him, one hand gripping the balcony railing tightly while the other pressed against the knife wound on his chest, trying to stem the rapid flow of blood. Her aim was a bit off-centre, but still lethal enough to kill. Needless to say, his feeble attempt did not work very well.

"I'm sorry," was her inadequate reply, tears blurring her vision, but she forced them back. Why was she showing weakness for the enemy? She should be happy, should be dancing in joy now that she managed to fulfil her task. "I had to do it."

The knife. The silver blade, glinting with dark blood in the moonlight. Out of all the curses, hexes, jinxes she could have fired at him to kill him, she chose the Muggle knife. It was a crude job, but Hermione did not care. Her Muggle heritage was something she was proud of, and using a Muggle weapon to kill the greatest hater of all Muggles and Muggle-borns would be like a slap in the face to the pureblood supremacists.

"It's not going to work," he hissed in agony, giving up his attempt. His shaking fingers fumbled in his pocket, but Hermione was faster than him. His yew wand flew through the air, summoned by her. She was not going to take any chances of him surviving this.

"It is," she choked, unable to look away from the pitiful sight in front of her. His body was sprawled against the railing for support, seemingly fragile, but those dark, dark eyes of his were glaring at her with such pure hatred that she was sure she would be dead if the phrase 'if looks could kill' was real. The crimson blood had soaked through his black and white robes, shining eerily in the moonlight. "I destroyed all your Horcruxes. There's nothing else that holds you to this place anymore."

Placing Abraxas Malfoy under the Imperius Curse and finding the Gaunt Ring in the shack was easy. Destroying the two Horcruxes with Fiendfyre was smooth sailing. She had snuck out during Christmas Break and found herself in Little Hangleton with the diary tucked in her pocket, and a few directions from a kind but suspicious Muggle had led her to an old, rustic shack.

Knowing that the ring had many curses placed on it, she simply thrown the diary into abandoned shack and casted the Fiendfyre Curse, one of the few ways to destroy the Horcruxes. The fire was a success, although she had accidentally burnt down a few of the surrounding trees. But no one was hurt in the incident, and she sneaked back into Hogwarts with a Disillusion Charm.

"_Professor Dumbledore, why did you ask me to come to your office? Have I… have I done something wrong?"_

"_No, Miss Granger, of course not! I merely need to discuss some things with you."_

"_What is it, Professor?"_

"_I ask too much of you, Miss Granger. But the war is growing fiercer, and I'm afraid there's only one solution to this."_

"_What – what would you like me to do, Professor?"_

"_After careful consideration, I have come to a decision. You must go back in time to kill Tom Riddle, Miss Granger. I'm afraid there's no other choice."_

"I don't believe you," he snarled with conviction, although his tone held a hint of uncertainty and slight fear. "You're lying."

"Believe what you will," she whispered numbly as she turned away, towards the door of the Astronomy Tower, leaving behind Tom Riddle and everything she had ever known for the past year. The weight in her heart seemed to have lightened, but at the same time, felt much heavier.

_Goodbye, Riddle. Perhaps one day, when we're no longer involved in war and life isn't so complicated, we'll meet again._

Before twisting the cool brass knob, she paused and turned back to look at him one last time. Even though the life was draining out of him, those aristocratic features, twisted with hate as he glared at her, never failed to take her breath away. He looked so vulnerable there; she could feel the strings of sympathy tugging her heart.

_Stop it. Don't think about it anymore. It's over. Get out of the Astronomy Tower now, Hermione. Before you regret it._

"But it's the truth."

This time, she could not stop the tears from falling.

* * *

They say that the first casualty of war was innocence.

The dark red blood would forever stain her hands; the memories would forever haunt her mind. At the very least, Hermione Granger had the comfort of knowing that its loss was for the greater good.

Or was it?


End file.
